


A Space Telenovela (feat. Space Pirates)

by benvolio



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Fluff and Angst, Gen, IN SPACE!, M/M, Other, Space Pirates, a tiiiiiiiiiiny bit of blood/violence mentioned, at the SAME TIME!!, implied sex, just go with it, more specifically - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 07:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6648334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benvolio/pseuds/benvolio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Captain John André is a space pirate and Captain Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette is basically the space law enforcement. They fall in love, but then John André is captured by Commander Washington, and Lafayette no longer knows whose side he's on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Space Telenovela (feat. Space Pirates)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, okay, so I love space pirates and this is a small snippet of a much larger work. Basically, what you need to know before going into this is that they have a history -- seven months prior to the beginning of this, Lafayette was captured and held hostage by Captain John André for two weeks. He was treated well (as a Captain should be), and over those two weeks, they sort of fell in love.
> 
> The problem was that, because of the power imbalance (André clearly had the upper hand), neither of felt as though they could act on their feelings. So they just pined for each other for two weeks. And then Lafayette escaped (thank you, John Laurens), and they figured they'd never see each other again and just had to get over their respective crushes. 
> 
> That's when this story begins. Seven months after Lafayette's escape, at a masquerade. And now you're all caught up!
> 
> Special thanks to Jack and Yelyzaveta for helping brainstorm stuff with me way back over winter break.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the best part of a ball is dressing up.

 

Lafayette knew this. In reality, it was the only reason he ever attended any of the parties Commander Washington invited his favorite men to. Ever since he was young and a girl had laughed at him because he didn’t know how to dance and had fallen flat on his face, Lafayette had avoided anything that required elegance, grace, and coordination. He was elegant in battle, when he was able to counter an opponent’s moves ― not on a dance floor, when he was meant to complement them.

 

But Lafayette liked getting dressed up, especially for a masquerade. There was something titillating about masks, and masquerades were the only time Lafayette ever wished he could dance ― so as to be swept up by someone whose face was completely concealed except for their piercing dark eyes, and the alluring curve of their lips, and ―

 

And Lafayette was thinking about Captain John André. Again.

 

He sighed against the wall, watching women twirl in dresses that caught the light with anonymous men whose masks were cluttered with feathers and intricately painted patterns. For two months after his escape, Commander Washington had refused to let Lafayette man his own ship again. As unfair as it felt, he most likely had good reason. It was exactly nine months and fourteen days since Lafayette had last seen André, and he still couldn’t get the pirate out of his head.

 

At least he had command of his ship. Whatever connection he and André had shared was long gone, and his inability to forget their time together was no longer impacting his ability to lead.

 

He took a sip of his champagne and crossed his arms, hiding the flute against his side. It wasn’t that he was trying to get drunk so much as it was the fact that there was nothing to do at a masquerade besides drink and dance. And, as previously mentioned, Lafayette was physically incapable of doing one of those. 

 

Earlier in the night, Hamilton and Laurens had gossiped by his side, but they were both excellent dancers themselves and had quickly been caught up by the music, the mystery, and the pretty people in all their finery. Every now and then, one would pop over and check on Lafayette. While he appreciated the concern, it was beginning to grow annoying; he was having a perfectly fun time alone in the corner, thank you very much, and nothing would be able to change his night.

 

Nothing, that is, except for a tall man in a surprisingly delicate black mask, silver details curling across his cheek and brow bones. He danced with a petite woman Lafayette had never seen before, but they both appeared comfortable twirling in time with the music. From his angle, Lafayette could see her smile spread into laughter, and he would swear he heard it over all the noise of the room.

 

It was all too easy to imagine himself in her place, laughing at something the dark man said and spinning in his arms. Something about their moves felt familiar and natural despite the fact that Lafayette was a terrible dancer. He found himself watching them carefully, trying to place where he knew those turns from.

 

And then the woman was swept up by another dancer, and instead of finding his own partner, the man excused himself. With nothing better to do, Lafayette pushed himself off of the wall, contemplating approaching the man. He was hardly trying to be surreptitious as he stared, though he knew he should have been. If nothing else, he could blame it on the champagne taking effect.

 

The man turned a corner, effectively cutting off Lafayette’s view of him. So far, he was the most interesting part of the night, and Lafayette was not about to let him get away. He casually made his way across the room, tapping Hamilton on the shoulder and handing off his champagne on his way. Hamilton stared after him in gleeful surprise (Lafayette doing something interesting at a  _ dance? _ Unheard of!), but Lafayette was already rounding the corner.

 

The hallway was strangely dark and shadowy, and Lafayette’s steps slowed as his heart rate quickened. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears and he carefully took a few steps further into the hallway, peering into an open doorway to see if the man was inside.

 

As it turned out, the man was not inside. One moment, Lafayette was standing in a doorway, and the next, he was being spun until his back was against the wall of the hallway. A hand pressed at his shoulder while another slammed very, very close to his head. If Lafayette had wanted to get out of the man’s grip, he probably could have, but his head was slightly fuzzy from the alcohol and he was definitely experiencing the most exciting masquerade of his life. 

 

“Who are you, and why are you following me?” the man hissed angrily, face inches from Lafayette’s.

 

Lafayette became very, very dizzy.

 

He knew that voice. He lived with that voice for over two weeks. And the proximity had forced Lafayette to make eye contact, and he knew those eyes. Those eyes that always looked at Lafayette like they knew secrets they would never tell. 

 

It had been seven months, but Lafayette could never forget Captain John André.

 

Within a matter of seconds, three things became absolutely clear to Lafayette: first, that André did not recognize him yet. Second, that André was at the masquerade for a less-than-desirable purpose ― such a dance not only provided the perfect cover, but plenty of time to sneak away and gather whatever information he wanted. Plus, he wouldn’t be so suspicious of a stranger following him if he was there innocently. 

 

The third thing Lafayette realized was that they were on the most neutral ground they were going to find. Commander Washington had been invited and brought along quite a few members of the Continental StarCrew, but anyone was invited and the location was technically neutral, meaning neither Lafayette nor André had much power over the other anymore.

 

Lafayette ignored the first two realizations and grabbed André’s face in both hands, kissing him softly with just a hint of the desperation he felt. André’s grip on his shoulder tightened, so Lafayette squeezed his eyes shut and hoped for the best.

 

He pulled away with a satisfied smile. After so many months of fantasizing about what it would be like to see André again and to be able to kiss him, something inside of him felt much more whole.

 

Unfortunately, he had very little time to cherish it. André shoved him back against the wall, eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to recall something very distant. “Who the bloody hell do you think you are?” he spat.

 

Lafayette grinned and bowed his head, still distracted by the thought of kissing André again. “Captain Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette,” he said quietly, looking up at André with his smirk still intact. “At your service.”

 

The look on André’s face was worth the entire masquerade. It shifted from anger to confusion to disbelief in seconds, eyes widening as his grip loosened. 

 

“No,” he breathed, hand ghosting along the sides of Lafayette’s face and lightly resting on his mask. “It can’t be.”

 

He carefully tugged at the ribbons of Lafayette’s mask, sending a wave of deja vu through the captain as he recalled the last time André had been untying something around his head. Lafayette held his breath and closed his eyes until his mask was entirely off, resting in André’s hand.

 

“It can be,” he said softly, a hopeful smile on his lips.

 

André broke out in a grin and took a few steps back, bowing low. “Captain John André. It is a pleasure to meet you under such desirable circumstances, Captain.” He glanced up, offering his hand and the return of Lafayette’s mask. “May I have this dance?”

 

Lafayette shook his head. “John, you know I can’t dance.”

 

“Ah, so we’re on a first name basis now?”

 

“I thought we always were,” Lafayette laughed. “Come. I have better plans.” He held out his hand. André took it without hesitation, and something inside of Lafayette glowed. 

 

“What are your plans?” he asked, mask still in hand.

 

Lafayette gave André a smirk as he led him through the maze of rooms that made up a relatively unused wing, especially at an event. Guests disappeared all the time, and everyone knew better than to go looking until the party ended. “Oh, come on, now. Don’t act like you don’t already know.”

 

It took André a moment, but the sharp intake of breath was all the indication Lafayette needed that they were on the same page.

 

The room Lafayette ended up unlocking was one that he knew well; whenever he’d stayed the night, he’d been given the same room, with the bed that had four posts and thick gold blankets and the mahogany desk with the gorgeously carved legs. It was all a bit too stiff and poised for Lafayette, but the room was warm and the layers of silk hanging over the bed allowed for extra privacy should someone come searching for them.

 

No one did. 

 

* * *

 

Lafayette knew the party must have been winding down, and someone back out at the party was likely missing him or even looking for him. He also knew that Alexander and Laurens would cover for him as long as possible. They were good friends, they really were. Lafayette was lucky to have them, and he knew it. 

 

John — Gilbert figured he could refer to him as John by this point — lightly traced his fingertips along Gil’s bare spine, comfortable and content. It felt like they'd been together for years, and Gilbert began to suspect he’d known John in a past life. 

 

“They’re going to be looking for you,” John murmured, echoing Gil’s thoughts. 

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, as though if he couldn’t see, the truth would go away. “I don’t care. Let them wonder where I am.”

 

John kissed Gil’s forehead softly. The gesture felt a million times more intimate than Gil was expecting. Or maybe that was just him projecting his feelings into a kiss.

 

“No, you should really be headed back,” John insisted. “Listen. I think someone might be actually looking for you.” 

 

He was right; somewhere in the distance, footsteps echoed down the hall. Gilbert ignored the twang of fear at being caught; anyone who found them would assume it was just the sort of thing Lafayette did. And it was. Just… not necessarily with pirates. Even so, he felt confident in his ability to get the both of them off the hook. “Tis the nightingale, and not the lark,” he protested. 

 

John chuckled. Gil’s heart glowed. 

 

Eventually, he sighed and sat up. The footsteps were growing closer, and Gilbert thought he recognized them as Alexander’s. “Will I ever see you again?”

 

For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty flashed across John’s face. Lafayette had never seen that look on him before, and he felt certain he was never meant to. 

 

“I'm sure of it.”

 

He spoke with such conviction, the uneasy feeling in Lafayette’s gut dispelled and he actually believed him. Looking back, Lafayette guesses that was one of his biggest mistakes. Everyone knows you can’t trust a pirate.

 

* * *

 

For the next several months, Lafayette waited for André. At first, it remained innocent. He attended as many balls as possible, hoping to catch André attending one, but he never saw the pirate. Over time, he began to volunteer for more and more dangerous missions, progressively growing more reckless. He maintained his ability to make good decisions and not put anyone in real danger without good reason, but Laurens and Hamilton noticed. Once or twice, they tried to talk to Lafayette about whatever was going on, but he’d brush them off and say he was dealing with it on his own. And he was. 

 

After a year, Lafayette pulled back. André wasn't looking for him. He wasn't returning. And he wasn’t worth Lafayette’s time or energy. By burying himself in work, the captain hardly had time to even think about pirates beyond those he was stopping and capturing. André was pushed to the back of his mind. Lafayette knew it was pointless, but he felt some semblance of pride for getting over André so easily — once he’d decided it was time to, that is. 

 

Although he became and remained Washington’s favorite and most skilled captain, those who knew him were aware that something in him had hardened. Something sweet and loving was gone. Yes, he was still personable among his crew and colleagues, but something was… off. In one of his letters to Laurens, Hamilton described the change as, “the light having faded from his eyes, as though he is haunted by a personal black hole hell-bent on stealing whatever it is that had made him our Lafayette.” Laurens supposed that was about as accurate as it was going to get. 

 

In reality, Lafayette had vowed to himself never to develop romantic feelings for another person, and especially never to fall in love. At least for the time being. Perhaps some other time, when he was no longer in his current line of work, he’d be able to justify a relationship. But for now, it was too easily led to pain. 

 

Lafayette did his job, and he did it well. He didn’t know what more people wanted from him, or why.

 

* * *

  
  
Captain Lafayette received a call from both Hamilton and Laurens at the exact same time. The first time it had happened, he’d been surprised and alarmed and answered in a rush. But it was no longer an uncommon occurrence; they often sent for him without consulting each other first. He answered them both, shoving the three of them into a group call. Whatever one of them had to say to him, they could say in front of the other. 

 

Hamilton looked a mess. His hair, normally pulled back into some kind of a ponytail or a bun or (if Lafayette was nearby and had any say) a braid, was coming undone, stray strands and curls floating around his head. There was a wild, fearful look in his eyes. And Laurens was too carefully composed — although he looked put together, there was a tenseness to his shoulders, and his lips were pursed. Immediately, Lafayette began thinking of the worst case scenarios possible. Had Washington been captured? Had he been killed? What–

 

“Captain, you should know-” Hamilton began, at the exact same time that Laurens said, “Gil, bad news.” They both stopped mid-sentence, and then Hamilton gestured for Laurens to explain.

 

“We, um. So. One of the new ships? One of the ones we sent out looking like a weakened cargo ship? The ones designed to attract pirates? Well, it... worked.”

 

Lafayette didn’t understand their combined hesitance and eagerness to tell him this news. “Okay? That’s a good thing, right? The less pirates, the better. Why are you telling me this?”

 

In response, Laurens looked down and shifted his weight. As the pause between his question and a decent response grew, so did Lafayette’s suspicion. “If you don’t-”

 

“Because,” Hamilton blurted out, “they've captured Captain John André.”

 

Lafayette’s blood ran cold. 

 

With that one name, feelings he’d repressed for years came rushing back. The cold, hard façade he’d put up and believed to be true vanished as a thousand emotions overwhelmed him. André was back! He wasn’t dead or lost! But he wasn’t here; he was captured, and it was nearly impossible for them to ever be together again. And, knowing Washington, Lafayette had a bad feeling André would be floated. 

 

Lafayette supposed his heart had been frozen when André vanished, but with his return, it didn’t thaw, nor did it break. It simply melted apart, leaving behind a messy battlefield of emotion in his chest. He sat back in his seat, sinking down low and collapsing in on himself. His brows furrowed together in confusion, trying to figure out how André could have ever been caught. He was  _ Captain John André _ . He was a professional. 

 

“Gil? Are you alright?”

 

He’d forgotten about Laurens and Hamilton, watching anxiously through the holographic screen. Their disheveled and alarmed appearances made sense to him, and he was fairly certain his own image now matched theirs. After a moment to compose himself, he swallowed hard, chin held high. 

 

“Thank you for telling me,” he said quietly, voice tense as he reached to shut down the call.

 

“Gil, wait–” they protested, but he’d hung up before they could say anything more. He had a prisoner to visit.   
  


* * *

  
Lafayette didn’t need clearance to visit the prisoners. He never did. He was Washington’s favorite, and while he used to deny it, now he exploited that fact. If anyone ever tried to stop him from doing something, he’d threaten to report them to Commander Washington. And even though he’d never actually do so, most of the time, his threat worked. 

 

He stood in the passageway between the rest of the ship and the interrogation room where André sat. André had his own prisoner's cell, of course, but he had been moved an hour or so ago for Gilbert’s purposes. The laser ran over his body, scanning him for entry and leaving behind a familiar warm, tingly feeling in his body. He took a deep breath to prepare himself. And then the door slid open. 

 

The room had been designed to make whomever was inside uncomfortable. It was sparsely furnished, with three chairs (bolted to the floor) and a table (also bolted to the floor). Everything was cold with harsh edges made of metal, and the lighting a dim bluish color. The overall effect was not unlike that of entering a dark alleyway late at night. Despite knowing he was in control and perfectly safe, the hairs on the back of Lafayette’s neck stood up. And then he saw him. 

 

André’s wrists were shackled together, the chain threaded through the back of a chair. He’d been mostly stripped — protocol, to ensure there was nothing that could be used as a weapon — and a handful of light bruises dotted his upper body. Most likely the result of rough handling, not intentional beatings. The soldiers weren’t trained to treat prisoners kindly. There was dried blood crusting on his chin from a cut on his lip. His hair was knotted and messy. And, on top of everything, he looked... old. 

 

Lafayette knew André was older than him, of course he did. But it had been four and a half years since he’d last seen André (approximately; he’d stopped keeping track of the exact days years ago), and it made sense if his memory had forgotten the crows’ feet at his eyes. Or maybe those were new. Lafayette genuinely didn’t know. It was only subtleties, after all. He supposed he must have looked older to André’s eyes, as well. He’d lost some of the roundness in his cheeks, toned his muscles, started standing taller. Prouder. 

 

He stood in front of André and waited to be recognized. It didn’t take long. When André finally cracked open his eyes, he grinned crookedly, reopening a wound on his lip. “Gil,” he sighed softly, no surprise in his voice, but almost… relief? That couldn’t have been right. “And so the tables turn.”

 

Lafayette lifted his chin. “And so it goes.” He stood straight, attempting to seem somewhat intimidating. “I’m sorry I can’t extend the same courtesy towards you as you extended towards me,” he said curtly, voice clipped. 

 

The pirate raised an eyebrow. So they hadn’t beat his spirit out of him. Good. “And what courtesy would that be?”

 

“Though you may be a pirate, you are a gentleman and a captain. I wish I could alter the circumstances of your stay with us to reflect such.” He gestured at the mess that was John André. “You should never be held captive like this. It’s unsuitable for a man of your status.”

 

Naturally, John exhaled a soft laugh, lolling his head back and audibly sighing up at the ceiling. “Your kind heart will be the death of you.”

 

Lafayette sniffed, growing tense again. “Perhaps.”

 

“Oh, my apologies, I didn’t mean it as an insult,” André backpedaled, eyes wide and sincere. “It’s something I’ve admired about you.”

 

“Then, thank you.”

 

André nodded and said nothing, only raked his eyes up and down Gilbert’s body in admiration. “ _ Mon Dieu _ , you’ve changed.”

 

“I could say the same to you. You’ve looked better.”

 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t clean up for you.” He gave a half-shrug, about as much as his constraints would let him. Lafayette grew piqued at his word choice. Didn’t. Sorry he  _ didn’t _ , not sorry he  _ couldn’t _ . As though he had a choice. “I can’t say the same to you. Have you changed your hair?”  


 

“I have.” Instinctively, Lafayette’s hand went to his hair. Normally, it was pulled back in a tight, complicated braided pattern, but he’d cut it too short and it now cascaded in loose curls around his face. As much as he liked the way his shorter hair looked, it was impractical; braids kept his hair out of the way so it never got caught (and was hard to grab on to). And not only was it long enough to get caught, it was too short to be put up in any sort of style and kept getting in his eyes. Which was both dangerous and annoying. He’d taken to using bobby pins to hold it back, and, when that wasn’t enough, thick headbands or even bandanas. Laurens had gifted him his first one; a simple dark blue band with silver specks of varying sizes that looked vaguely like stars. 

 

The day he saw André in the interrogation room, he used nothing to hold his hair back. It hung on either side of his head, reddish-blonde locks curling against his cheekbones and chin. Paired with the red in his uniform, it gave him a strangely striking resemblance to Enjolras. 

 

“I liked it long,” André said simply. It didn’t sound like an insult; it sounded like he was simply sharing an opinion. That didn’t mean Lafayette appreciated his comment.

 

“I didn’t cut it for you,” he snapped, pulling his hand back. He had to stop messing with his hair. It made it look like he was nervous. Which he wasn’t. 

 

André gave that same crooked grin, the one that made Gilbert want to kiss him until his grin vanished. “I liked that attitude, too.”

 

“That one  _ is _ for you.”

 

Lafayette was rewarded with a soft, genuine chuckle. He bit back a smile, but the inevitable discussion still hung between them. Trying to avoid further stalling, he glanced away from André and around the room, swallowing down the bitter taste in his mouth. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Anything.”

 

“How could you let yourself get caught?” Against his will, a note of pain crept into his voice. As though he was personally offended. Well, maybe he was. So what?

 

André opened his mouth, but Gilbert cut him off. “I know you’re not stupid enough to fall for the ship disguised as a normal cargo ship, because you’re not… You’re smarter than that. You would never fall for it. But I also thought you were smart enough to never get caught, so maybe I’m wrong.”

 

“I–”

 

“And you disappeared! Off the face of the universe!” Lafayette could hear the hysteria creeping into his voice, but he didn’t care enough to contain it. “I see you once after months, and then you promise we’ll meet again, and then you disappear! I didn’t expect to see you frequently, but maybe before four and a half years went by. I mean, look at you! You’ve aged! What the hell happened to you? Where have you been? And don’t say ‘space,’ because I really don’t want to hear it–”

 

“I was looking for you.”

 

Oh, okay, that was one way to shut Lafayette up. He stood in shock. “You... what?” he asked, voice softening.

 

“I was looking,” John repeated, “for you.”

 

“That doesn’t... I don’t understand. That doesn’t make sense. Explain from the beginning.”

 

André eyed the corner of the room where a camera sat watching them, and Lafayette supposed he had to address the suspicion in the pirate’s expression. “I disabled the cameras before I came in,” he confessed, taking the seat across the table from John. “No one is watching us.” He didn’t tell the pirate about the microphone he had resting on the underside of his lapel, recording everything they said in case John revealed something that would save him from certain death. Lafayette was willing to share their entire history if it spared André’s life. 

 

André sighed and slunk down in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position. Clearly, this wasn’t a short story. Which was a good thing; Lafayette was going to need every detail. 

 

“I left my ship. In a small contraption, not unlike the one you escaped from me in.” He gave Lafayette a pointed look. The captain didn’t react. “You’ll notice my crew isn’t with me. They weren’t slaughtered. I left them, because I didn’t want them to be in any danger. The way any sensible captain would.

 

“I was looking for a ship I could board and ask about you. Every time I got close to you, something would happen and I’d have to run or risk capture. But I’m getting old.” Lafayette snorted softly in agreement. “I'm done running.”

 

“So, what then?” Lafayette asked, not sure where John’s story was going. 

 

“I'm getting there.”

 

Lafayette waited. It took John another moment and a deep breath before he continued. 

 

“You’re right, I knew it was one of your ships. I’d been looking for something similar. I asked to board and said I had been cut off from my crew — not a lie, technically — and they agreed to take me in until we reached a port. 

 

“So, naturally, I questioned them and asked if they had heard any rumors or information about the continental fleet, but especially you. I think I dropped your name. I was being incredibly cautious; I know rumors fly and people love to gossip about your little clique.”

 

The captain bristled. He did  _ not _ just call their military a clique. Did people really gossip? What did they say? 

 

“Relax, Gil, it’s not a bad thing. People will talk,” John reassured, and Gilbert noted that he must be at ease — they were back on a first name basis. But Lafayette was in a position of power. John should have been using a term of respect. “Anyhow, they didn’t show any indication of suspicion. Washington trains those men well. Compliment him for me sometime, will you?”

 

Lafayette said nothing. He wasn’t in the mood to encourage or indulge this captive. 

 

“I guess they thought I was too inquisitive, or that I knew a few too many rumors than they were comfortable with, or maybe it’s just some new protocol for everyone who boards to be scanned. I didn’t have a choice at that point. I could have fought them, but there was an entire armed, albeit small, crew and I was one man. Besides, like I said, I’m done running. So they scanned me, and nothing showed up. It was like I didn’t exist. Of course, in reality I was simply not in the system, but that was a given.

 

“So when they brought me back — just to make sure I wasn’t a criminal — that Lieutenant Arnold identified me. I knew I should’ve floated him when I had the chance. I didn’t even try to defend myself. I went down easy, really. A gentleman’s defeat.” He chuckled softly, no amusement in it whatsoever. “And hey, at least I achieved my end goal. You’re here, aren’t you?”

 

“Not funny,” Lafayette muttered.  

 

André shook his head. “It’s really not. But what else am I supposed to do?” He leaned across the table so that his chair balanced on only the front two legs, eyes locking with Lafayette’s. It was a stare he knew well. The one where it felt like John was stripping him down to his core, like nothing could be kept hidden. He knew better than to fight it. There wasn’t a point. André would find out what he wanted eventually. Every time. They sat like that for a moment, saying nothing, André looking right through Gilbert’s carefully constructed façade and past the built-up hurt of the last four years to the grief already lodged somewhere deep in his dark brown eyes. “They're going to kill me, aren't they?”

 

The captain stared back unflinchingly. He blinked a few times and opened his mouth with the intention of responding, but no words came out. And, as it turned out, that was all the answer he needed to give. 

 

The chair fell back onto four legs with a loud, solid thunk. André pursed his lips and exhaled through his nose, not a hint of surprise on his face. At least one of them was reconciled to his imminent, unavoidable death. 

 

For the first time since he'd entered the interrogation room, Lafayette broke the act. Even when he'd been speaking more comfortably with André, it had been through a character he’d invented, a captain who was dealing with a convict he happened to have a history with, but no one he was attached to. Everyone in the fleet knew better than to get attached to someone. But Lafayette had. And now he had to face the consequences. He kept staring at André, eyes wide as they gradually began to water. Very little about his expression changed, but when he whispered, “I'm sorry,” his voice was raw.   


 

There was nothing more to say. After several minutes of silence, Lafayette wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand and pushed his chair back. He took a shaky breath before standing. It wouldn’t do for him to exit the room appearing very emotional. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see André look up at him, but he purposefully avoided his gaze. Things were hard enough. He didn’t need to see the pain and hurt and grief he was feeling reflected back at him.

 

The captain stood at the door, waiting for scanners to confirm that he was, in fact, Lafayette, and not the prisoner attempting to escape. From behind him came a small voice that couldn’t have originated from André ― there was no way, it was too thin, too pleading… it couldn’t have belonged to the strong, fearless pirate he knew. But there was no one else who could choke out, “Gil,” in such a way that he hesitated in the doorway.

 

He kept his back to John, squared his shoulders, and tilted his chin. “That’s Captain Lafayette to you,” he said, reusing the same authoritative tone he’d adorned upon entering. The only difference was that this time, his voice broke. It didn’t matter. André always saw right through him.

  
He stepped through the doorway and didn’t look back as the slab of solid steel slid into place behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you like this - I have so many ideas and such that I'm working on, but motivation is always an issue. Plus, I have no idea if anyone even likes/cares about this sort of thing, so if you do, please let me know! Thanks!


End file.
